25

So the clock strikes midnight and my claim to be 24 because my birthday isn’t here yet slowly fades away with the imaginary chimes that one supposes a clock at midnight might produce.

I’m 25. I’m already wincing at the thought of how many times I will hear the inevitable phrase “quarter of a century” this weekend. I don’t feel 25, but then again I’m not sure anyone really does. All of us, deep down, are convinced we’re still 18. Haha.

Never thought I’d say this, but at 25, the proverbial shelf is getting distinctly more tangible even as it gets more empty. I’ve always been fine with being single, but lately the Facebook newsfeed is a virtual minefield of wedding and engagement announcements, pictures of diamond rings, romantic dinners and the like. Not that I want a diamond ring or anything, but sometimes, they make me feel like I’m missing something — I guess I probably am! But its fine and I’m fine because I can trust God on this, whatever happens.

Us not being friends anymore has gone better than expected, but I wish we could put that on hold just for today, so I could get a “happy birthday”. Probably won’t happen, but hey, if you can’t wish on your birthday, when can you?

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